


live a little

by The_Eclectic_Bookworm



Series: nowhere else i'd rather be [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics 2019), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: BOOM! Buffy the Vampire Slayer Comics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 22:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20104378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/pseuds/The_Eclectic_Bookworm
Summary: As Rupert Giles attempts to come to terms with the concept of being Watcher to an untrained Slayer, he's also faced with his not-entirely-platonic feelings towards his long-distance colleague Jenny Calendar.(Pre-comics: how exactly Giles and Jenny got together.)





	live a little

**Author's Note:**

> this fic came about because 1) we still don't know how giles and jenny got together in the comic reboot, 2) giles and jenny are clearly WELL past the casual-dating stage in the comic reboot, 3) jenny calls giles "giles" instead of "rupert" in the comic reboot and i wanted to give her a reason for doing that, and 4) giles and jenny both did magic in the comic reboot, so i wanted to write them doing a spell together. because that is soft and i am soft.
> 
> compliant with the comic reboot up through issue 6!! big hopes it continues to align with canon.

Rupert Giles had a rather extensive network of connections outside the Watchers’ Council. Not that the Council wasn’t an adequate resource on its own, of course—only that Giles found it unwise to rely wholly on one source for the support of his supernatural research. He harbored no illusions about the nature of the organization he worked for: if his morals no longer aligned with the set mission of a Watcher, the Council would bar him from their resources without hesitation. And Giles was a smart man—smart enough, at least, to prepare for every occasion. It was always possible that his path might diverge from what the Council believed to be his destiny.

_“It should,” _said Ms. Calendar, one of Giles's aforementioned academic connections, who was alternating between taking bites of the scone on her desk and haphazardly tidying up her classroom. She kept on moving out of view of the camera to rearrange things in the computer lab. _“That entire institution is based on a bunch of old white guys exploiting a young girl who doesn’t know any better. It’s disgusting and I hate it.”_

“Complaining about a defunct system doesn’t do all that much, and you know it,” Giles pointed out. “Better to travel deeper into the belly of the beast so I can change it from within.”

_“Giles, what are the odds that those assholes are going to give you a Slayer?” _Ms. Calendar persisted, picking up her paper cup of coffee and taking a long sip. Swallowing, she continued, _“They know you’re too smart to buy into that Slayers-are-weapons garbage. You have an actual soul.”_

“You flatter me,” said Giles dryly. “I’m sure I’m blushing.”

Ms. Calendar rolled her eyes, grinning, and placed the paper cup back down on the table, finally sitting down in front of her laptop. Her eyes were still alight with cheerful combativeness as she took a bite of her scone, taking a few seconds to just study him through the screen. _“You would make an amazing Watcher, you know,” _she said.

“Your confidence in my abilities never ceases to amaze me,” said Giles, feeling that soft, unexpected warmth that conversations with his closest friend always seemed to elicit. He _did _wish she lived a bit closer. Perhaps not in a different country. Perhaps—

_Don’t be ridiculous, Giles._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Giles,” _said Ms. Calendar. Giles had to do a little bit of a double-take before reminding himself that Ms. Calendar could not, in fact, read minds. _“You’re kind, you’re smart, and you don’t cave to a greater authority without questioning their methods beforehand. That kind of thing isn’t something I’ve seen in active Watchers. I think it could make for a stronger, better Slayer than the world has ever known.”_

“You’re shamelessly idealistic,” said Giles. He really _was _blushing.

_“You think too little of yourself,” _said Ms. Calendar, unfazed.

“You never eat a proper breakfast.”

_“You think that anything that isn’t a three-course meal doesn’t count as breakfast!”_

“Don’t twist my words, Ms. Calendar, I simply think that one cannot _possibly _call half a cup of tepid coffee _breakfast—_”

The bell rang. For a moment, Giles believed that this was somehow on his end, but then Ms. Calendar gave him a small, apologetic smile. _“Class is about to start,” _she said. _“We’ll have to catch up later, okay? Today’s the first day of the spring semester and it always gets a little intense.”_

“Right,” said Giles, longing tugging at him. He wished that they could talk for hours on end, like they did during the summer, when Ms. Calendar’s classes didn’t take up most of her time. But nine months out of the year, Ms. Calendar was occupied almost entirely with work, and the time difference made it difficult for them to carve out moments to catch up. It was rare, as of late, to get to talk to her. “Do have a good day, Ms. Calendar.”

_“You too, Giles,” _Ms. Calendar said, and gave him that unfairly lovely smile before hanging up their video call.

Giles fell back into his chair and allowed himself about two minutes of lovesick pining. Then he pulled himself up and went back to looking through his books.

* * *

Books took up most of Giles’s time. A lot of the work he did for the Council involved collecting rare volumes to add to the Council’s wealth of resources, but some of the volumes required proper translation, and some of them required restoration, and _all _of them required extremely gentle handling. It was painstaking work, and it left Giles feeling drained and frustrated and more than a little bit trapped. Much as he loved the care and keeping of knowledge, he felt as though he could be doing _more _than just shutting himself up in his office to re-letter a page with fading ink.

Friday nights, he played his guitar at a local open mic night. That helped.

Largely, though, Giles felt like he was stagnating, and he felt utterly helpless to do anything about it. Helpless, and _frustrated, _a new emotion that had woven itself in when he’d realized the way that Ms. Calendar’s smile made him feel. She was right: he _could _do more. It was unfair that he was doing so little.

_Complaining about a defunct system doesn’t do all that much, and you know it. _Easy advice to give to a woman who lived an ocean away, but nearly impossible for Giles himself to follow.

* * *

_“Has a new Slayer been called yet?” _asked Ms. Calendar. She was calling Giles from home, today. She was up rather late, and Giles was up rather early, which worked out quite well for both of them. On most levels, at least, because Ms. Calendar was wearing significantly less than her usual workplace attire—a rather small tank top and shorts—and her short hair was artfully, adorably disheveled. Giles was doing his best to very pointedly Not Notice any of this. It wasn’t working very well.

“Not—not as such, no,” he said. “Or at least, not one that’s been found by the Council, which has everyone quite upset. Nearly all Potentials are raised by the Council since early childhood—”

_“Deeply creepy, by the way—_”

“—and it’s entirely unusual for a Slayer to be called outside the select pool of Potentials.” Giles grinned wryly. “Merrick’s having fits. He was _sure _that his Sarah would be the one called.”

_“So wait,” _said Ms. Calendar, looking up at him with a small frown. _“Who’s going to get assigned to the new Slayer if she ends up being outside Council jurisdiction?”_

“Honestly?” Giles considered the question. “I’m not entirely sure. For the last fifty years, the only Slayers called have been Potentials raised by the Council. They’ve gotten rather good at keeping tabs on the girls. I assume—” He stopped, and swallowed.

_“What?”_

“I assume,” said Giles, “that the role of Watcher to the active Slayer would go to the most senior member of the Council not yet assigned to a Potential.”

Ms. Calendar’s smile widened into a full-on grin. _“Oh yeah?”_

Giles was beginning to feel a bit dizzy.

_“And who might that be, Giles?” _prodded Ms. Calendar, who knew _full well _that Giles was the most senior member of the Council by a long shot.

Giles didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if he really could.

_“Giles?” _Ms. Calendar’s smile faded into something a bit more worried. _“You okay? You look a little shaken.”_

“Yes,” said Giles weakly. “Well. I suppose I’d gotten rather used to my…my sedentary life.”

_“Oh.” _Ms. Calendar wasn’t smiling anymore. _“I’m sorry, Giles. I kind of thought you’d be a little more excited about something like this.”_

“Ms. Calendar,” said Giles quietly, “you may be convinced that my compassion and wisdom will make me an excellent Watcher, but I’m not quite so certain. Forgive me, but I think I may have to hang up and process this concept on my own.”

_“Oh,” _said Ms. Calendar again. She looked worried, and strangely frustrated. _“I-I really wish I could be there for you right now. I’m sure this isn’t easy for you.”_

“Goodbye,” said Giles, and hung up. He recognized it as brusque, but he was too dazed by Ms. Calendar’s hypothesis to really register the apology he’d have to give her later.

He sat back in his office chair. He rather missed the pining, because this weighty, terrible feeling was so much worse. He had imagined so many different options for the rest of his life—leaving the Council, continuing his research, rising through the ranks of the Council, flying to California to finally meet Ms. Calendar in person—but none of them had ever integrated the possibility of the Council awarding him a Slayer. It was 2019. The Potential-finding process had been all but perfected. No Slayer in fifty years had been raised outside the Council, and such a girl…

Firmly, Giles shook his head. The trials of his past had barred him from being assigned a Potential. He’d spent nearly ten years watching as junior Watchers were given Potentials, and he had accepted his calling as a glorified librarian. Regardless of this Slayer’s anomalous Calling, no one had found her yet—and it was heartbreakingly possible that she might die before the Council found her at all. Even if, by some miracle, the Council managed to save her from an unpleasantly early end, it was highly unlikely that Giles would be chosen as her Watcher. There was no need to worry himself over it further.

* * *

Two days later, Giles received a letter. For a heart-stopping moment, when he saw it along with the rest of his mail, he was _convinced _that the Council had decided to contact him after all. He swallowed, hard, picking it up, separating it from the bills and notices—

—and then he saw the sloppy, looping cursive on the return address. It was a handwriting he knew _quite _well. After all, he’d watched Ms. Calendar grade papers often enough. Heart fluttering for a _very _different reason, Giles picked up the letter, opening it carefully.

_Giles,_

_Even if we’ve never been able to bridge the gap and cross the ocean to meet in person, we’ve still known each other for five years, and that’s kind of a really long time. I know you, Giles, which is why it really messes me up to think about you being so terrified of doing something you’d be so amazing at. I mean it when I say you’ve got one of the biggest hearts I know._

_I don’t know much about the Watcher-Slayer bond, but I do know the kind of guy you are. I think you could care about this girl. I think you could keep her safe. I think—and don’t you dare roll your eyes—that you could be that instrument of change in the Council that both of us are always talking about._

_I know a change as big as this is scary. But whether or not it ends up being a decision you have to make, I want you to really think about what you want to do with your life. You can’t spend the rest of it locked up with those books, and you know it._

_Live a little._

_Yours,_

_Jenny_

Thumb stroking the _J _in Ms. Calendar’s first name (five years, and he still hadn’t built up the courage to call her _Jenny)_, Giles smiled softly. He moved to tuck the letter back into the envelope—and noticed something else.

A ticket.

A one-way ticket to Sunnydale, California, all expenses paid, for a flight leaving in a week’s time.

Heart pounding, Giles pulled out the letter again, flipping it over to the back. But there was no postscript, no clarification, _nothing _that might help Giles ascertain the reason behind Ms. Calendar’s offer. Just the letter, and the ticket.

_Yours, Jenny._

Did she—was she—

Giles shoved the letter into his pocket, then pulled out his phone. He and Ms. Calendar had agreed that phone calls were only for emergencies, especially on school days—but this, Giles thought, _certainly _counted as an emergency. Ms. Calendar was not the sort of person who wasted money on a one-way ticket without asking the recipient if they wanted it. Ms. Calendar was living off of a teacher’s salary, for God’s sake—

_“Giles?”_

“What—the—why?” stammered Giles, too overcome to really form a coherent sentence.

There was a pause. Then Ms. Calendar said, _“I just—I wanted to do something that would make you start thinking about what you wanted to do, Giles. Because whatever you want to say to me right now, that’s a direction, isn’t it? It’s a choice that you get to make.”_

Giles was beginning to feel rather dizzy again. “Ms. Calendar,” he said, “it’s a truly kind gesture, and one that I appreciate immensely, but the fact of the matter is that I haven’t made a clear decision in a very long time. Springing this on me without warning isn’t at all helpful.”

_“Watchers need to be decisive,” _said Ms. Calendar stubbornly. _“If you can’t tell me right now whether or not you want to come to Sunnydale, then maybe you’re going to need to turn that Watcher offer down—_”

“Of _course _I want to come to Sunnydale!” snapped Giles, losing his temper. “_Decisiveness _doesn’t play into what I _want, _Ms. Calendar! A Watcher has the weight of the world on their shoulders, and if I choose to take up that mantle—”

_“Then you’ll still have me!” _shot back Ms. Calendar. _“Right by your side!”_

“Ah, yes,” said Giles. “Right by my side, except for the bloody ocean.”

Another pause. This one more charged, somehow. More painful. _“Rupert,” _said Ms. Calendar, and Giles’s heart caught in his chest. She had always skirted the line of unprofessionalism, never crossing it, but this… _“Come to Sunnydale, okay? Whether or not you end up a Watcher, I’d like to see you in person. I think it would be good for both of us.”_

Giles swallowed. The geographic distance between himself and Ms. Calendar was the largest reason he hadn’t ever acted on or admitted his feelings towards her. Removing that…he didn’t know what might happen, or what he would be tempted to do. “I don’t know,” he said.

_“Please at least think about it,” _said Ms. Calendar, and hung up.

Giles pulled out the letter again, staring at Ms. Calendar’s messily graceful handwriting. _Live a little, _she’d written, as though it was the easiest bloody thing to do.

* * *

He packed his bags, and after some consideration, booked a return flight to England that allowed him two weeks in Sunnydale. He got a haircut, and some new clothing—a few relaxed sweaters, so that Ms. Calendar wouldn’t tease him about being too buttoned-up for California. He spent a week putting all his affairs in order, making sure that his home was tidy and his rarer books were locked away, and then he boarded a flight to Sunnydale.

He hadn’t called Ms. Calendar to tell her that he was coming—in part because, even as he made preparations for the trip, a part of him still wasn’t sure that coming was the right thing to do. He no longer _entirely _believed that following his heart was a selfish, foolish pursuit, but he had believed it for a very long time. It was a hard belief to shake. Every so often, Giles would feel with strong conviction that he would cancel his plans and stay in England—but he always found himself continuing his packing, and his shopping, and his planning.

And so it was that Rupert Giles found himself leaving England for the first time in a _long _while. He certainly hadn’t traveled outside the Council’s sphere of influence since returning to the fold. It felt strange, and a bit illicit, especially when he remembered a truer, quieter reason that he was crossing the ocean. If anyone other than Jenny Calendar had bought him a ticket to Southern California, he wouldn’t have been on that plane.

The flight was twelve hours. He slept for the second half, and woke up when they were landing, drowsy and stiff. Running a hand through his hopelessly messy hair, Giles pulled himself blearily out of his seat, slinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder and disembarking the plane. He was in a bit of a sleep-muddled haze, and it took him twenty minutes to find his way to baggage claim.

Someone was already pulling his suitcase off of the revolving trolley. Someone small, who certainly couldn’t manage it on their own. Too tired to really register that his baggage was most likely being stolen, Giles moved to help the person in their quest. “No, here, put your back into it,” he mumbled, and gave the suitcase a helpful _tug, _placing it carefully down on the tiled floor. He blinked, then said, “Wait. That’s certainly not _your _baggage, is it?”

There was a hand on his arm. “Oh my god,” said Ms. Calendar, a laugh in her voice. “Oh, no. Giles, you look like some kind of sleepy zombie.”

“How intensely flattering,” said Giles. “I am intensely flattered.”

“Your poor suitcase has been rotating around on its lonesome for like twenty minutes,” said Ms. Calendar. “Did it seriously take you twenty minutes to find baggage claim? Don’t answer that. Let’s get you a coffee.”

Wait. _Very _belatedly, Giles realized exactly who was standing in front of him—tiny, and dark-haired, and with a brilliant, beautiful grin that was somehow _so _much better than his computer screen had ever revealed to him. “Oh!” he said, and he couldn’t help the way his voice softened. “Oh, Ms. Calendar, it is _wonderful _to finally meet you in person!”

Ms. Calendar blinked, then _beamed_, blushing slightly. “You are absolutely totaled,” she said. “I think you need some coffee.”

* * *

The coffee did help rather a lot.

“I do apologize for my, um—” Giles stopped, somewhat unsure how to describe his condition upon arrival.

“Complete and total totaled-ness?” said Ms. Calendar helpfully.

“Yes,” said Giles. “That. It was quite unbecoming of me.”

“To be honest, I’m still kinda floored that you came,” said Ms. Calendar almost shyly. “You pretty much dropped off the map for a whole week. I assumed I’d really pissed you off by springing that plane ticket on you without asking.”

“I was…processing,” said Giles. Of its own volition, his hand reached across the table, resting over Ms. Calendar’s. She looked down at it with wide eyes, then back up at him. _Move away! _Giles told his hand. It didn’t. “Your request did come from a well-intentioned place. I understand that now.”

Ms. Calendar’s small smile faded. “Rupert, I think I should be honest with you,” she said. “I invited you because…if you become a Watcher, that’s a full-time thing. You always made time for me when I was necessary for your research, but if you’re working to train the one and only Vampire Slayer, I don’t know how you’ll have the time or energy to save a spot in your life for me.”

“When you were _necessary for my research?” _Giles repeated incredulously. “Ms. Calendar, why exactly do you think we’ve been in touch these last five years?”

This seemed to take Ms. Calendar aback. She shrugged a little awkwardly. “I honestly don’t know,” she said. “You said when we met that you like having a broad range of academic connections—”

“Ms. Calendar,” said Giles. He laced his fingers with hers. “There is no one else I would cross the Atlantic for like this. No one else.”

Slowly, Ms. Calendar met his eyes. “Oh,” she said.

“Yes,” said Giles.

“Can you…elaborate on that, maybe?”

There was a look in Ms. Calendar’s eyes that suggested something quite plainly to Giles: were he to make some kind of romantic overture, he might just find his feelings returned in kind. But placing their years-long friendship at risk for the sake of a fleeting romantic impulse…the potential costs far outweighed the possible benefits. He swallowed, then said, “You are my dearest friend. I value our relationship quite…quite highly, and that goes far beyond your use to me as a researcher. I am not—I do not prioritize research over genuine human connection, Ms. Calendar, and certainly not when I care for someone as much as I do you.”

Ms. Calendar looked a little overcome. “Oh,” she said again, and squeezed his hand. “Well. Uh. Ditto, Giles. You totally—that’s—yeah.”

Giles couldn’t help but grin. “Lost for words?” he said. “That’s certainly a rare occurrence.”

“Wh—you—_shut up,_” said Ms. Calendar, a flustered laugh in her voice. She pulled her hands up to cover her face, but forgot about the fact that she was still holding Giles’s hand over the table—an action that led to her inadvertently pulling _his _hand to her face as well. Her lips brushed against his knuckles—just for a moment, and _just _enough of an intimate touch to send a pulse of magical warmth up Giles’s arm.

“Oh!” said Giles, starting.

Ms. Calendar winced, letting his hand drop. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I’m pretty much a magical battery on full moons. I might try and do a small spell when we get back to my place, just to burn off some excess energy—”

“I can help, if you like,” said Giles.

“Seriously?” Ms. Calendar smiled slightly. “That’d be kind of cool, actually! It’s been a while since I’ve done a spell with a friend.”

“What about your coven?” said Giles, surprised.

“Oh, that’s just standard group magic,” said Ms. Calendar with a wave of her hand. “There doesn’t need to be a strong bond between the casters for the magic to work.”

Giles read between the lines, and his heart fluttered: Ms. Calendar, it seemed, valued him just as highly as he did her. “Two-person magic has a tendency to require a greater intimacy,” he finished. “A stronger bond, both emotional and spiritual.”

“Is that from _Mansfield’s Book of Elementary Magical Theory?” _teased Ms. Calendar. “And verbatim, too—what a nerd.”

_“You _recognized it,” countered Giles, grinning.

* * *

Ms. Calendar cleared a space in the center of her apartment, then drew a careful chalk circle on the floor, adding in various runes at every forty-five degree mark. Protection. Stability. Trust. Giles watched her work—doing his best not to notice things like how utterly attractive it was that she remembered absolutely all these runes without any reference—and when she was done, he stepped inside the circle himself, sitting down on the floor.

Ms. Calendar sat down in front of him, and held out her hands, palms-up. Giles placed his hands on top of hers. “What sort of spell are we doing?” he inquired somewhat tentatively.

“Oh, one of my favorites,” answered Ms. Calendar easily.

“And that is?”

“We’re gonna get in tune with the moon,” said Ms. Calendar. “It’s more _meditating _than _casting, _but it’s still pretty fun to do.”

“Oh,” said Giles, grinning. “This was one of the first spells I learned, as it happens.”

“Exactly why I picked it,” said Ms. Calendar, grinning back. “I figured you’d probably be a little rusty. Didn’t want you jumping into the deep end and spraining your spiritual ankle, so I went with some beginner stuff.”

“Ha ha,” said Giles dryly, squeezing her hands.

Ms. Calendar squeezed back, and closed her eyes. “Okay,” she said. “Um, Goddess Artemis, hear our prayers. Take of us our faith in you, and let us receive your faith in us.”

“That’s not how I did it,” said Giles, frowning.

“It’s a gesture, Giles,” said Ms. Calendar, opening her eyes just so she could visibly roll them. “Don’t be so pedantic.”

“Doesn’t magic usually follow a formula?”

“Magic is about trust,” said Ms. Calendar, exaggeratedly patient. “You give what you can to the world around you, and you trust the forces of nature to have your back in return. You won’t get anything if all you’re focused on is the right words for a spell.”

“You _are _a good teacher,” said Giles, only half teasing.

Ms. Calendar stuck her tongue out at him and closed her eyes again.

Giles followed suit. He could feel Ms. Calendar’s hands in his, and at first that was all, but then he felt it: that same gentle warmth, beginning at the place where their fingers entwined. It flowed through him like a current—like a blessing—like everything he wanted and wouldn’t let himself believe he could have—and he opened his eyes again, and he saw the way Ms. Calendar _glowed_, dark hair rising as if blown about in a breeze, eyes bright and white and brimming with magic, and he knew he was the same, and he could feel the moon or the stars or the sun or perhaps all three, coursing through him along with his magic, with Jenny’s magic, both of them and all of them entwined, connected, _one—_

* * *

“Whoa,” said Ms. Calendar, and laughed.

They were lying sprawled on the floor, Giles’s arm thrown across Ms. Calendar’s stomach. The circle was smudged, but a few of the runes had burned into the floor. _Trust, _Giles’s brain supplied. _Love. _“Is it generally like that when you do it by yourself?” he inquired. He felt drained, drowsy, and sated, all in one.

“Oh, _rarely._” Ms. Calendar rolled over onto her side, settling herself into Giles’s arms like it was nothing. “I’ve heard that two-person magic is always pretty intense, though, especially if there’s a deep bond between two people.”

“Ah,” said Giles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into his hand. The magical connection still lingered, lowering his inhibitions just enough for him to risk a few gentle touches. “You know, you really are quite good at what you do. I’m glad to have been given the opportunity to see it in action.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Ms. Calendar, smiling slowly. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and Giles’s heartbeat picked up—but she simply snuggled closer, letting her eyes drift shut. “I think ‘m gonna nap,” she mumbled.

“Not on the _floor, _Ms. Calendar, that will be _horrible _on your back—”

“Shush,” said Ms. Calendar, resting her cheek against Giles’s sweater.

Giles, a bit overwhelmed by how _close _Ms. Calendar had somehow become to him, took a bit too long to register that Ms. Calendar was falling asleep; by the time he had collected himself, she already _was _asleep. With a resigned sigh, he tugged her further into his arms, closing his eyes himself. He was _much _too tired to find his way to her bed—good lord, that sounded _quite _indecorous, he simply meant that he wanted to take _Ms. Calendar _to bed—

Somehow, Giles had managed to fluster himself into wakefulness. Carefully, he sat up, pulling Ms. Calendar along with him, and picked her up in his arms. She really was quite small, he thought, looking down at the way her head nestled against his chest. He was used to seeing her in constant motion, and seeing her asleep and peaceful was rather jarring. He half expected her to wake up and rattle off some witty quip.

He carried her to her bed, and set her down—or tried to. Her hands had curled around his sweater, and when he attempted to remove himself, she simply pulled him closer. Startled, Giles lost his balance—tumbling, awkwardly, to lie on the bed next to Ms. Calendar.

She sighed in her sleep, curling back into him.

Giles felt as though he should feel more self-conscious, or embarrassed, or ashamed. But the magic they’d worked had still left him with that lingering sense of pleasant exhaustion—the sort where one felt that everything would work out just fine. He closed his eyes again, resting his chin on the top of her head, and his last thought before slumber was _I am really quite lucky, having her in my life._

* * *

The phone was ringing.

“Oh, _blast,_” Giles mumbled, and reached for the phone on his bedside table. Only, no, his phone was soft, and pliable, and oh lord that was Jenny Calendar’s shoulder. He had a heart-stopping moment where he genuinely believed he might have—but no, they were both fully clothed. His memories of the spell were hazy, certainly, but he felt certain he would have remembered _that._

“Turn it _off,_” groaned Ms. Calendar, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow.

“That’s _your _phone,” said Giles, just as unhappy about being woken up as Ms. Calendar. “It’s _your _house. Therefore, _your _job.”

“Etiquette dictates that guests have to respect house rules,” said Ms. Calendar into the pillow, “and rule number one in my house is that the guests answer the phone.”

“That’s—” But Ms. Calendar very clearly had no intention of moving. Giles made a frustrated noise, just to make it _abundantly _clear how he felt about Ms. Calendar’s _clearly _fictitious house rule, and then he pulled himself up and out of her bed, stumbling down the hallway in the general direction of the ringing.

As soon as he picked it up, Quentin Travers said, _“You are needed back in England, Mr. Giles. We’ve booked a flight for you that leaves in two hours’ time. Return at once._”

“What—” said Giles.

The line went dead.

Giles stared at the receiver, heart plummeting. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good, especially if Travers had gone to all the trouble to track him down. Though he’d let the Council know he would be in Sunnydale, he hadn’t given Travers a phone number, or even an address—clearly, magical means had been used to make sure that call reached its intended recipient.

There were only a handful of reasons that Travers might call him like this. Giles liked absolutely none of them.

Ms. Calendar entered the living room, then, still a bit bleary-eyed. “What was that?” she asked, the last word transitioning into a yawn.

“That—” Giles swallowed. “That was the Council.”

That woke Ms. Calendar up. “Wait, what?”

“I’m to return to England,” said Giles. “Apparently.”

Ms. Calendar’s face went through a multitude of emotions very fast. “Oh,” she said. “Well, you’re definitely setting a world record for Shortest Visit Ever.”

“I am so sorry,” said Giles miserably. “It’s rare that the Council calls me in like this. Only ever in an emergency—”

“Or if they’re assigning you a Slayer.”

The words hung between them like a barrier. _Like an ocean, _Giles thought. “I’m sure that isn’t the case,” he said, but the words sounded hollow even to him. “If—if you don’t mind, I’d truly appreciate your driving me to the airport. I did travel quite far to see you, and I wouldn’t want to waste even a moment—”

“Yeah, of course.” Ms. Calendar looked just as miserable as Giles felt.

“I really am sorry.”

“Don’t,” said Ms. Calendar. “It’s not your fault.” She tried to smile. It didn’t seem to work. “When does your flight leave?”

“Two hours from now.”

Ms. Calendar swallowed. “Sure,” she said. “Okay.”

He hadn’t even gotten a chance to unpack, Giles thought, and crossed the room to where his suitcase still stood by the door. He put on his shoes, then his jacket, then turned, waiting for Ms. Calendar to finish tying her sneakers. She picked up one of his bags, and he took the other, and they headed out to her car.

Though Giles truly did wish to make the most of his remaining time with Ms. Calendar, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. There was a knot in his stomach that didn’t lessen as they neared the airport, and it didn’t help that Ms. Calendar was plainly sad to see him go. The week had felt full of possibility, an opportunity to see—and now that he was leaving, he could admit this—how he might fit into her life. Now he would leave, and chances were that his new Slayer—if this was why he was being called away—would prevent him from setting foot in California again.

And even if she wasn’t…he didn’t know if he was brave enough to bridge the gap between them again. He didn’t know if she would try again, either.

At the doors to the airport, Ms. Calendar stopped, looking up at him almost apprehensively. “Giles,” she said.

For the very last time, Giles turned to look at her, resigning himself to the fact that his contact with her would once again be limited to a low-resolution laptop screen. “Yes?”

Ms. Calendar stepped up, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him.

As seamlessly as if she had flipped a switch, Giles’s thoughts shut off.

Ms. Calendar stepped back, looking a little dazed by her own forthrightness. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, ducking her head as she turned to hurry back to the car.

_“Jenny!” _said Giles, breathless, but she didn’t turn around—she tripped, a bit, in her haste to reach the car, but she didn’t turn around. He watched her go, eyes wide; he couldn’t take his eyes off of her until her car had driven off. For ten minutes after that, he stood there, attempting to piece together exactly what it was he was feeling. He very nearly missed his flight. It didn’t matter all that much to him.

* * *

“The Council is assigning you a Slayer by the name of Buffy Summers,” said Travers. “Are you prepared to take on this responsibility?”

Giles thought of Ms. Calendar. He knew what she would want him to do.

But—no, he didn’t, not quite. She’d never said she _wanted _him to be a Watcher, only that she thought he would make a _good _one. Ms. Calendar, he realized, wanted him to be _happy—_much more than she wanted him to be a Watcher, or to be her lover. She would encourage his decisions only if they were ones that they both knew he’d _wanted _to make.

Did he want to desert the Council, leaving yet another Slayer to his colleagues—a girl who was so obviously unsuited to take on such a responsibility? Other Watchers would balk at the challenge. Other Watchers would wait for a Slayer more trained—a girl born and bred to continue the line. A Council-approved Watcher would turn this Slayer down. An obedient Watcher would take this Slayer on. Any sensible man would cross the ocean to Jenny Calendar and kiss her back until she was grinning fit to burst.

_What do you want, Giles? _Jenny’s voice rang out in his head.

“I want to _make _something of myself,” said Giles aloud, realizing the truth in the words as he said them. Nothing felt more important to him than that. “I want to be of use to a good cause.”

Travers smiled, slow and pleased. “Good man,” he said. “Fortuitous, then, that this Slayer resides in Los Angeles, isn’t it?”

For the second time in two days, all intelligent thought left Giles’s head. “I’m sorry?”

“Your visit to the region didn’t go unnoticed, Mr. Giles,” said Travers conversationally. “Though we aren’t at all sure _why _you chose to take such an abrupt trip, and with such short notice, we _do _know that you did not use Council funds to buy that ticket. It’s fair to assume that there is _something _in that area that has captured your interest.”

“Um—” said Giles.

“Further diligent research, I assume,” said Travers.

Giles thought of Jenny. “Yes,” he said. “Research worth continuing.”

* * *

_“Wait,” _said Jenny. _“You said yes? Last time we talked about it, you shot me down every time I even deigned to suggest you might make an okay Watcher.”_

“Your praise was a bit more glowing than that,” said Giles dryly. “And—if we’re being quite honest, I thought a bit more seriously about…” He trailed off. “What I want,” he said. “As a very lovely, very pretty technopagan helped me realize, it’s something I should think about a bit more often.”

_“You don’t have to pile on the flirting, Giles,” _said Jenny a little uncomfortably. _“It was a kiss. It’s fine. It’s not like we’ll be seeing each other in person again soon—we’re not even on the same side of the ocean.”_

“And what if we were?”

_“Giles.” _Jenny’s voice caught. She sounded almost pained. _“Please don’t do this._”

“No, Ms. Calendar, humor me,” said Giles gently. “What if we _were _on the same side of the ocean?”

A long pause. Then, quietly, Jenny said, _“If we were on the same side of the ocean, I—I don’t know. But we’re not. So I think we should just stay friends.”_

Giles paused. Then he said, “Ms. Calendar, I think that there's a bit of information you're currently missing.”

_“You are being weird and vague and cagey and I really can’t handle that right now,” _said Jenny thinly. _“School starts in like two hours, my classroom needs tidying up, I can’t find my grading pen, and I forgot to grab myself my usual Starbucks breakfast, so if you _don’t _mind, Giles, would you please just _tell _me whatever the hell you—”_

Pocketing his phone, Giles opened the door to the computer lab.

Jenny turned, eyes bright with tears. “What—” she began, and then gasped. “Giles?”

“I really was being a bit vague,” said Giles, and suddenly, he couldn’t stop grinning. “The Slayer’s been located in Los Angeles. And according to some Council information, she and her mother are planning to move to a sleepy little vampire town by the name of Sunnydale, Calif—”

Dropping her phone, Jenny _ran _across the room, all but colliding with Giles. She pushed him back into the wall, gripping the lapels of his jacket and looking at him like she never, never wanted to look away. Giles quite empathized, really. “Giles!” she said, a tearful laugh in her voice. “You _unbelievable _jerk!”

Giles placed his hands over hers and tugged her into a kiss. “If,” he murmured, “we were on the same side of the ocean?”

“Hmm,” sighed Jenny, kissing him back. “I think I’ll have to really consider my options.”

* * *

_four months later_

“Giles!”

“Ms. Calendar!” said Giles, grinning broadly as his coworker locked her car doors. “How was your summer?”

“Oh, y’know,” said Jenny nonchalantly, stepping up so that they were toe-to-toe. “Pretty okay. I have this really cute boyfriend and we're just crazy about each other.”

“I don’t think he would describe himself as _cute,_” said Giles, extending his arm. Jenny took it. “I think he might actually prefer…” He considered. _“Dashing,” _he said. _“Rakishly handsome.”_

“Nah,” said Jenny, falling into step with Giles as they began to walk. “Cute. Cuddly. He’s like an amalgam of a woodland animal and a Disney Princess.”

“That sounds…truly horrific.”

Jenny kissed him on the cheek. “How’s the library looking?”

“A bit more organized than previously, thank heavens,” said Giles wryly. His predecessor had left Sunnydale High’s library in a _truly _sad state. It had taken quite a lot of work over the summer for Giles to make the library actually useful. And to subtly integrate his own supernatural research materials in with copies of _To Kill a Mockingbird _and _Lord of the Flies. _Jenny had had to help with that one. “Somehow, this first day might be just as relaxing as I was hoping my summer would be.”

“Um, excuse me?” a small blonde girl called, hurrying past Giles and Jenny to tug at the elbow of another student. “Sorry—I just wanted to check. School starts at nine-_thirty, _right? My mom thought it was nine, and I couldn’t talk her out of dropping me off early, so…here I am! Bright and early! Or maybe bright and on time, I guess.”

“Are you _new?” _said the other girl with interest.

“Yeah, I’m Buffy,” said the blonde, giving her companion a nervous smile. “Buffy Summers.”

Giles and Jenny exchanged a wide-eyed look.


End file.
